


Chihiro at Seventeen

by Boomchick



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The enormous half-dead tree which sheltered dozens of little shrines was still standing. The entire area was. She'd gone back once, to look inside the tunnel again. She had been fourteen and angry at her life, looking for an escape. There hadn't even been a tunnel to go through. Not even so much as a road to turn down. Whatever pathway had opened up on the day she moved to town was long gone now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chihiro at Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quiet and contemplative look at the woman Chihiro turned into.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spirited Away, but I do love it.

Chihiro at Seventeen

“Chihiro, you're sure you want to go alone?”

“I'm fine, mom,” Chihiro sighed, shouldering her bag. “It's only a day trip.”

“But why do you even want to go back? You know someone else owns our house now, right? And haven't all your friends moved away?”

Chihiro glanced up at her mother and had to smile a little. From where she was, sitting on the stoop and pulling her shoes on, her mother looked tall again. Just like she had before everything changed. Still wearing a little too much lipstick, and still pouting almost petulantly. The streaks of grey in her hair were a reminder of how much time had passed.

“I just want to look around,” she assured her mother, turning back to pulling on her new sneakers. Still pink, of course, but much bigger now than they once were.

“Well, if you say—Oh, Chihiro! You're still wearing that ratty old hair band?”

“I like my hairband,” she murmured to her shoes before standing up, tapping her toes on the ground.

“I just bought you some new ones the other day. You've been wearing that old thing for years!”

“This one is fine,” Chihiro insisted, lifting a hand to slide over the shiny band. “Even if it's not as shiny as it used to be.”

“Just leave the girl alone, dear,” her dad said, stepping into the entry way with a broad grin and his hands on his hips. “She's all grown up and ready for a little freedom and responsibility! Aren't you, Chihiro?”

“Thanks dad,” Chihiro smiled, opening the door even as she looked back at her parents. “I'll be back before the two of you even miss me.”

“Drive safely!” her mother cried out as she shut the door behind herself.

She waved through the window at her parents, smiling widely, then turned and walked down the steep driveway. She heard their murmured voices through the window behind her and sighed. Some things never changed. Even if she'd been thirty instead of seventeen they would still worry and dote.

She pulled out her new keys, opening the driver's-side door of her birthday present. It had been a struggle, convincing her parents to trust her to drive, but she'd managed it. Ever since she was ten, struggles had been a welcome change from the monotony of day-to-day life.

Chihiro paused before she entered her new car, facing down the steep hillside to the forest below. The enormous half-dead tree which sheltered dozens of little shrines was still standing. The entire area was. She'd gone back once, to look inside the tunnel again. She had been fourteen and angry at her life, looking for an escape. There hadn't even been a tunnel to go through. Not even so much as a road to turn down. Whatever pathway had opened up on the day she moved to town was long gone now.

Still, she gave the tree a little bow as she faced it. It was a small ritual of hers—one she'd almost given up a dozen times—but she never could face life without that small bow. It served as a reminder that once, when she was little, she'd faced things so much scarier than obnoxious friends and high school exams.

She watched the tree for a moment after bowing, and let a slow smile of excitement cross her face. Her own car, and her own day to herself. It was all she had been waiting for. She climbed inside and shut the door tightly behind her. Keys in the ignition, she glanced up once more, and shook her head as she saw her parents watching her from the window. She waved again, grinned, and backed down the driveway. She'd been waiting for the chance to go back for so long, she wasn't about to let a little nervousness and a little pity for her parents stop what she needed to do. She didn't look back once she pulled away.

The drive took a lot less time than she remembered from when she was a child. She glanced down at the dashboard of her car, where she'd stuck her goodbye card. She couldn't even remember the name of the friend who'd given it to her now. It had been such a long time since leaving her hometown seemed like an unimaginable tragedy.

Chihiro rolled her window down as she drove. The wind in her hair was a poor substitute for flying—she still had dreams about her trip on a dragon's back—but it added to the overall feeling of freedom her drive was giving her. She was a more careful driver than her dad, but it was as close as she came to flying, and she still pushed the speed limit a little bit. No reason not to on the rural roads between cities. She closed her eyes at the red light, and sighed as long-past images of shadowed people and submerged railroad tracks rose in her mind.

The car behind her honked, pulling her out of her memories, and she drove off quickly, smiling a little ruefully to herself. She had been thinking about that brief period in her life more and more in the recent weeks. Yubaba, who had both hated and praised her; Zeniba, who had been both terrifying and kind; Lin, who had been such a good friend and to whom she'd never said goodbye; No-Face, who gave back only what you showed him; the baby and the bird, and...

“Haku,” she whispered to herself as she drove, rubbing a hand over the steering wheel.

The memory of his horns under her hands was so far away now. She could _remember_ remembering it vividly, but now it was just a fantasy feeling. She wished it wasn't. She still thought about how it had been to cling to him as she was pulled from the river, and then to fly with him, over railroad tracks and a flooded world. She did remember the touch of his hand.

She blinked back tears, frowning at herself darkly. She wasn't ten anymore. There would be time for tears later—after she was finished.

She passed the edges of her city and smiled to herself. Halfway there, and she hadn't even taken an hour yet. How whiny she had been to spend the entire trip sulking and complaining as a child.

She glanced down at the passenger's seat, where she still had all of her school supplies. The year wasn't over—not by a long shot—and she had a lot of work still to do if she wanted to pass. School was easy, in a way. She wished Yubaba was her principal instead of Hidaguchi-san, though. It would be much easier to respect the edicts from the top if they came from a fierce witch instead of an awkward, muttering senior citizen.

She frowned darkly at the book on top of the pile. Another fantasy book she had been assigned, another unsatisfactory ending. The other kids in the class had loved it, but not Chihiro. She had scowled and complained about how easy the ending was—the main character gets the best of both worlds, living happily with his magical wife, but getting the opportunity to go back and forth between worlds for the rest of his days. And, of course, he also makes a fortune writing books about his travels. It was infuriating.

For a while, Chihiro herself had considered writing out her trip. She had started a dozen times at least. But as much as the spirit world had taught her, it had given her no lessons in how to write, and though she was capable enough at essays now, she was no fantasy writer, and had very little interest in becoming one. And besides, she had always thrown the draft away the moment she got to the restaurant. She didn't want to write about what had come over her parents. She didn't want to make it dramatic and interesting for others to read. She wanted to hide it away in her heart and never speak of it.

In one or two drafts, she'd tried to skip straight to the bathhouse, but she never got past describing the exterior. Because after the exterior came the river she'd loved, and she could never bring herself to put him into words. The world didn't need to know about him. It didn't feel right, exposing him like that. She'd known a part of Haku he didn't show to anyone else. It wasn't fair to him to take it upon herself to expose him. And besides, how could she ever put the green of his eyes or the fluidity of his motion into words?

In the end, she had decided it was for the best not to write the story. She wasn't the kind of person who needed to make millions off of a fantasy anyway. She had a career plan in place, painstakingly crafted with the help of her mother and father. Her father had been more help, though. Whenever the planning had become difficult, her mother would start to ask Chihiro if she was really sure she didn't want to find someone nice and be a stay-at-home mother. Though she loved and respected her mother, Chihiro always shot that idea down quickly. She remembered Yubaba's baby too well. As charming as he had been as a mouse, she doubted she'd ever see an infant again without worrying it would break her arm.

The turn to her old neighborhood came and went. She bypassed it intentionally, heading a little farther away. The road was barely recognizable. There were more houses than trees on the way, and everywhere she looked were signs for apartments, buildings for rent, and new western-style housing developments. She tried not to find it too depressing. She passed a rusted bicycle on the side of the road, and promised herself that she would stop and pick it up on the way home. Better to go to a proper waste treatment center than to sit there rusting until it was washed into the river.

She took a right hand turn, and smiled at the shade the trees lining the road provided. This much, at least, was the same. The shady drive and dappled sunlight were familiar and saddening at once. It ought to have been like this the entire way.  
Finally, she arrived. She parked outside the apartment building, turning her car off and sitting inside it a moment. The place was—well, it was boring. A building complex like every other—just a little bigger than most. The doors were all the same, the miniature balconies as alike as it was possible to be. One or two of them had potted plants outside, and a couple had decorations by their doorbells. Nothing opulent, or beautiful, or unique.

Chihiro stepped out of the car, and pulled her bag out as well. She closed the door with a sharp bang, and started walking towards the edge of the complex. It was cool enough to be comfortable outside, but she found herself surprised at what a long hike it was. She shouldn't have been surprised. It had been a big river.

Finally, she reached the edge. What woods were left beside the apartments were thin and sparse. She could see the nearest grocery through the trees, despite all of them being in full leaf. She let out a slow breath, trying to remind herself that these people weren't evil for trying to make their lives better. It was hard to reconcile what she knew of humanity and what she knew of their impact on the river spirits she'd met. She'd been kicked out of more than one class during her school career because of her insatiable desire to fight against more development.

She slowly knelt on the ground just past the concrete wall of the last building, glancing around herself. They'd filled in any sign of where the river proper used to be.

“I hope this is close enough for you to see me,” She said softly, setting her bag down before her.

She pulled out the little shrine she'd spent the last seven years finding the perfect pieces for. She'd fitted flat river stones together painstakingly into the same sort of shrine that lived beneath the giant tree down the hill from her house.

“I know it's not exactly perfect,” she said softly, placing it gently on the ground, “but I felt like there ought to be something for you here.”

A soft wind shifted the remaining trees before her, tugging at her clothes. She would have liked to believe it was an unnatural wind, sending her a message, but if it was it felt just like a normal breeze. She settled the little shrine against the tree she'd chosen to kneel in front of, smiling slightly at the sight of it there. It looked good, she had to admit.

Inside, she placed the few offerings she had for the tiny house. Then she pulled out the second bundle—a set of three hand-made onigiri.

“Here,” she said softly, placing them down by the shrine. “Since you gave me yours. I still can't make mine taste that good, but then I can't exactly put spells on mine.”

She sat still for a while, sighing softly to herself. She hadn't expected Haku to show up—she was too old and had tried to call to him too many times to think he'd be there now—but she had hoped. She always hoped.

“I miss you,” she said softly, settling back on her knees.

She spent an hour there. She didn't say much of anything—nothing seemed significant enough. Finally, she knew she had to go. She gave a little bow to her shrine and stood up slowly.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. I still hope we meet again, like you said we would, but I can wait. So just take care until then, all right?”

The walk back to the car was a long one, and the drive home was longer still. She stopped to pick up the rusted bike, and threw it into her trunk with a quiet satisfaction. She would have to stop by the dump later to drop it off. Finally she turned her car up the hill that led to her house, and paused, glancing to her left. The trail through the forest was dark and dense—overgrown from years of disuse. What good was a road that went nowhere, after all?

On impulse, Chihiro took the turn, wanting one more time to see for herself whether or not the pathway was open. Stone faces smiled at her out of the woods, and she smiled back. Whether the doorway was open or not—whether she saw her friends again, or was just reminded of them—it was worth it. The trip was always worth it. Even if it never turned out the way that she was expecting.

She pulled up into an empty clearing of trees where there ought to have been a red plaster wall and a smiling stone in the middle of the road. She sighed, turning off her car and tilting her head back to hit the headrest.

“Just as well,” she muttered. “I'm not supposed to look back anyway.”


End file.
